Argosy All-Story Weekly, April 14, 1928 — page 9: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

RED ““ She asks me riddles,” he stated to the ceiling. “ l’m surprised a lady with your scruples could possibly type such letters.” “J have to earn my living,” Nora said soberly. “And I’m no lily of the field. I’ve got to get mine. How are we going to be married if I don’t make good money ?” ‘Upon my word,” remarked Nora, “we are not going to get married. There are eleven reasons why | would not marry you, but one will do.” “ Spill number one.” “ God Almighty hates a liar.” Lester looked hurt. ‘Meaning me? Listen, yoy beauti- ful Hibernian, I never told a lie in my life, except in the way of business, and those are only fibs, business necessity. Honesty is my policy, truth my fetish, and my integrity will be the death of me, “Now, you lap a lot of postage stamps and stick them on those sales letters; then get out your tool kit and plaster the map of Ireland in prepara- tion for getting tooken to dinner by Honest Lester Lucus.” “ Ves?” said Nora in a tone which meant: “ Nothing of the kind.” “ Ves, marm. Meanwhile, I shall en- ter the lair of William Q,. Davenport, and tell him that mamma’s only son needs a lift in salary. In case you would like to know how increases in honorariums are secured, listen at the kevhole, beloved.” With this, Mr. Lucus stalked away, head up, shoulders squared, with the measured tread of a grenadier, but as he neared the fatal door his step grew slower, his manner less Napoleonic. A giggle from the rear recalled him to the situation, and he opened the door without knocking and entered. Nora Meagher opened her handbag ‘and removed a mirror, a small, round enameled box, and a lipstick. A girl has a hard time refraining from mak- ing up under ordinary conditions, but HOT, 147 when some one has suggested it, she simply cannot resist the notion. Just the same, she was not going out to dinner with Lester Lucus. She did not approve of Mr. Lucus. He was not serious, and he was an awiul liar. No girl could depend upon a man like that. The face that Nora had gazed at in the mirror, and which Lester had de- scribed as “ the map of Ireland,” was a pretty nice face. Ireland, as a matter of fact, is a very beautiful country. Nora had eyes of Irish blue, that coal- black hair and blond skin which is com- bined only in the land described by an enthusiastic poet as “a little bit of heaven.” Her nose was small, and might have ‘been referred to either as retroussé or pug, depending upon the vocabulary of the describer, and there were three or four freckles on the bridge of it that she tried to smother with powder. Her hair was bobbed; she admired its inky gloss and its inky shade, then frowned when she remembered what Lester had said. “The last time I saw hair like that it was on a horse, a horse called Black Beauty.” Lester’s technique had a lot of holes in it. Her cheeks were pink, but she put — some rouge on them to make them pinker, and she did some fancy work upon a mouth that didn’t require any; such ripe, red lips were as inviting as red apples, and the snowy, tiny, even teeth were good enough for a tooth- paste ad. The chin was small, round, and had a dimple in it. Another dimple ap- peared in her leit cheek when she smiled. | She couldn’t see her figure, but we can. She was a small girl and slen- der, but it was not a skinny figure, no indeed; and as for the legs from ankle to knee—and the knees were in full view as she sat with crossed legs— take it from the author that Nora Meagher was the kind of a girl who .OO (COLAMUCE cS (E) im a